


Road Trip

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen, Guilt, No Slash, References to Past Relationships Only, Road Trips, Self-Reflection, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4769156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is talked into going on a road trip with Claire across the country to face the woman he married, then abandoned, as Emmanuel. He's not so sure about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conflict

Castiel was conflicted. Not that Castiel was ever not conflicted. His life these last several years had been one conflict after another.

He was a soldier. He didn't dislike physical combat. He thrilled with it in many cases, when he had a clear enemy and no moral gray to taint it. Fighting for survival in Purgatory was hardly a moral gray; he was fighting to keep his companions alive, but he was also fighting to reach a sort of redemption for himself. Dean may have found the battle there to be pure, and certainly that what what Purgatory meant, purification. But for Castiel, it was not so satisfying.

Smiting demons on earth, that was satisfying. The possessed human was often already beyond saving, and anyway, so long as he or she was not a willing recipient of the possession, it was essentially a free ticket to Heaven. Other than extremely strong-willed humans who had no internal conflict, any human could become possessed, and Heaven did not hold that against them. On the contrary, death during unwilling possession was seen as martyrdom. Heaven was a strange place.

So smiting demons had always brought him deep satisfaction. Destruction of an evil force while allowing a human to be reaped to their reward was no gray area for him.

At least, it wasn't until he fell in love with a demon. But Meg was no ordinary demon. Meg sought redemption, in her own way, just as he did. Everything Meg did, she did out of a sense of loyalty, and that was Castiel's conundrum as well. Just like Meg, he had often chosen the wrong place to lay down his loyal heart. Sometimes he chose the right side at the wrong time. And sometimes he thought he had all the facts when it turned out he clearly knew nothing. It was hard for a creature of loyalty to understand, harder to recognize, that loyalty did not always run both ways. Gadreel had learned all about this, too late. Meg had died protecting Castiel, who was under the influence of a corrupt Heaven at the time, and the Winchesters, who would have killed her themselves under any other circumstances.

Meg and Castiel understood one another. Just as Castiel had no tolerance for deceitful, dishonorable bureaucrats like Zachariah, Meg was disgusted by the sleazy, pandering crossroads politicians like Crowley. Meg and Castiel respected warriors. Hannah was an angel who had never lost Castiel's respect, even when they did not see eye to eye. Castiel suspected, though he hated to admit it, even to himself, that Meg would have adored Abaddon, would have fought and died for her throne.

So there was hardly a time that Castiel was not in conflict, at least in his own heart. He was Castiel the Fallen, the legend and the monster.

But this? He had no idea how to feel about this.

But it was out of his hands, clearly, and that made it a little easier. It had been a long time since he had taken orders from any higher authority, but he remembered how.

And the way Claire was standing there with pierced eyebrow raised and arms crossed on her chest, hip cocked to one side...Castiel had no conflicting view about who the higher power between them was.

He sighed. "All right, Claire," he capitulated. "We will drive to Colorado together."


	2. Whatever You Want

"I suppose," Castiel murmured into the chaos, "that it has occurred to everyone present that I could easily fly us where we need to go."

Sam was snickering to himself, as he did whenever Castiel had missed the point of something, and Dean and Claire were shaking their heads and rolling their eyes. He had once snapped at Dean that his eyes did that so often he was concerned about their structural integrity, but Sam had made him aware, before Dean could respond, that Castiel himself had a frequent habit of rolling his eyes too, and Dean had smirked as though he were witnessing a parent scolding a sibling. 

"What?" he demanded. 

"Man, that's not the point, all right?"

Claire threw her hands onto her hips. "You do whatever you want," she said.

Sam shook his head at Castiel from behind Claire, but Dean was more vocal and less subtle with his help. "Don't do whatever you want," he advised in a low voice. "Whatever you do, don't do whatever you want."

Claire glowered at him. 

Castiel swallowed hard. "I see. I, of course, would never wish to indicate that I didn't..." He watched Sam's attempts to mime his assistance. "That I didn't...want to spend...watch with you." Castiel's eyes widened when Sam slapped his own forehead. "Time! Spend time with you!"

Claire gave such a look of exasperation that Castiel was sure she would blind herself if she continued in that manner. "Whatever." She spared a moment to glare at Sam, then stormed from the room. 

"Nice, Cas."

"How long will this trip take?" he sighed. 

"Two there and two back, I'm guessing," Sam said. 

"Two what?"

"Days!" Dean said sharply. 

"Four days? When I could get us there immediately? But why?"

"First of all, you need some time to formulate your..." Dean glanced at his brother. 

"Communication strategy," Sam supplied.

Castiel nodded. "But I thought Claire and I had been communicating better lately."

"Not Claire, Cas. You get what this trip is for, right?" Sam said worriedly. 

"Dude, you're going to visit a woman you married and then walked away from years ago."

The angel bit into his lip. He sighed. "Daphne. There will be no strategy necessary for Daphne. When we get there, I will simply ask forgiveness and explain what happened."

"That's what you're going with? Oops, I'm an angel?"

"She deserves the truth."

Dean put his hands up. "Okay. Do whatever you want."

"You told me not to do that."

Sam laughed. He handed Castiel Claire's bag. "And secondly, Cas, you're taking this trip so you and Claire can get to know one another better. She's reaching out, man. This is what you wanted."

He stared at the door Claire had slammed behind her. "Have I ruined things irreparably?"

"Probably not. She's not a little girl anymore, Cas. She's a woman."

"I've never been good with those."

Dean sighed. "We know." He smacked the angel on the arm and grinned. "Go get 'em, Tiger."

"Text or call me if things get rocky, okay?"

Castiel sent Sam a look of gratitude. Dean seemed to be enjoying this far too much, but at least Sam was concerned for him. Of course, that was a primary aspect of Sam's personality, so he sometimes ignored it. Sam had just spent twenty minutes making sure Claire had enough salt and holy water and two good fraudulent credit cards, as well as plenty of cash, and had handed Dean her gun and angel sword to clean and maintain while he examined her fake IDs and slipped a rosary into her bag as well. Sam might have made an excellent weird uncle. 

He walked slowly out of the motel where they had met Claire. She was leaning on the jeep with arms crossed over her chest, as if she were protecting her heart from him. He sighed. 

"Claire, I look forward to spending this trip with you. I suppose I just don't understand why you want to make the trip. I could go alone. Or do you not trust me to do as I promised?"

She sighed too. "Castiel? I had plenty of time to think while I was holed up with Jody and Alex. You took a lot from me. But I also know now that my dad had to give you permission to do what you did, that he prayed to be something more than what he was. I just wish he had thought being a dad was enough. But that part isn't your fault. And in the end, I was more important to him than any of that. You did some messed up stuff, Castiel. But I think you're always doing the best you can, especially for me. And that's more than anybody else has done. You're not my father, as you keep telling me. But maybe we can finally be friends?"

A slow smile crossed his face, as hope filled his vessel. "I would like that, Claire. Very much."


	3. Seatbelts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because it has always bothered me that the boys don't wear them.

Castiel finally understood why Dean played a constant stream of music while driving. It kept him from always having to have something to say. No matter how much he enjoyed Sam or Castiel, road trips were difficult if there were awkward silences. Castiel, over time, had learned to tell when humans were quiet because they were at peace or pensive, and when they were at a loss for things to say. Most of the humans he knew personally were not quiet by nature, but talking was hardly their strongest talent, and he was self-aware enough to know the same could be said for him.

So he was relieved when Claire turned on her music right away. Other than some casual talk about navigation, they were quiet, but Castiel deemed it a comfortable quiet. That lasted for most of an hour, and Claire seemed as grateful as he felt.

Finally, though, Castiel became curious. Dean had recently scolded him that curiosity killed the Cas, and that probably applied to things other than just looking through Dean's toiletry bags. But he could not help it.

"Claire," he said to the driver finally, "how did you learn to drive?"

"What?"

"How did you learn the skill of driving an automobile?"

She laughed a bit. "Um...Dustin taught me, I guess. It's not that hard. Why? Who taught you?"

"I suppose Dean did. I spent enough time watching over him that I learned the mechanics fairly well. The etiquette of the road still eludes me at times. It's as though the road itself is its own society, with rules and language."

Claire smiled at the road ahead. "Yeah, I guess. Your first language? That's Enochian? Do you know English because my dad knew English?"

"I knew English long before taking your father as...before I knew your father."

Her lips tightened, and she watched the road carefully. "So you just picked it up from watching humans."

"I did. My garrison's duty was to watch without interference. We awaited the prophets. We watched for threats to Heaven and humanity."

"But not to humans."

He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"Threats to humanity but not threats to individual humans."

Castiel shifted in the passenger seat. Claire had told him he must wear a seatbelt so that she did not get pulled over by law enforcement. Considering her background, and the contents of her bag in the back, he had thought that was prudent. But it certainly made it uncomfortable. Dean had never required such a thing. And now he wondered why not, considering how important these men were to the continuation of humanity. Why would they not protect themselves better? And he knew they had been involved in at least one major collision, the one that had nearly finished off Dean. And if it had...Castiel wondered about that. Where would the world be-where would he and Sam and Claire be right now if Dean had perished in that collision. Had Azazel or another demon still succeeded in taking John Winchester, they could have broken him eventually. Perhaps he was more stubborn than his son, but he was not unbreakable. Time spent in the fires would have worn down his humanity, would have made him forget why he fought so hard. Maybe it would have taken far, far longer, but Lucifer's loyalists had nothing but time, and the Righteous Man breaking was their top priority. Castiel suspected that was why Dean had been given more personal attention on the rack than his father, and why he had been broken faster. Azazel had been distracted by Sam for John's tenure in hellfire. For Dean, Alistair was the primary demon involved, and there was no generation of special children to distract him. Dean received the full attention of Hell's finest torturers. His screams had reached Michael's ears.

If Dean had died, mauled by a demon, then crushed in that collision, eventually, they would have broken John, who was not so connected to Michael as Dean was. Certainly, there was Adam. But Castiel had no doubt at all that Lucifer in Sam's vessel would have won that battle, especially since there was no Dean to fight for Sam's soul and body. Castiel would not have been captain of a garrison sent to free the Righteous Man from Hell, would never have rebelled, would never have known where Anna was. She might have been taken and tortured by the demon hoarde. Even before Crowley's reign, there must have been a demon with the ingenuity to do to Anna what Crowley had done to Samandriel. Surely, Alistair or Azazel could have broken her down to her basic commands, and gained information which would have devastated Heaven.

And Castiel would still have a feeling-one of those forbidden sensations-that something was very wrong, the feeling he had pushed down for centuries, maybe longer, but he would have had no guidance for that feeling.

Perhaps Jimmy Novak would have been alive, but with the army of demons and the Croatoan virus consuming the world, with angels like Uriel raining down sulfur and death without a care for the mud monkeys below, that was hardly a consolation.

At last, he responded to her question. "I think you would be surprised just how important an individual human can be, if it is the right human," he murmured. "Sometimes a threat against a single human is a threat against humanity itself." He smiled at her fondly. "Claire, I'm glad you wear a seatbelt. Please continue to protect yourself. You are important."

She glanced at him in surprise, but he turned to stare out the window at the scenes passing by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a combination of needing to not be confined while acting in the set Impalas and the same thing as them popping a beer before hitting the road. (Bobby, the notorious town drunk, even brought that up. "You driving, ain't you?" And Soulless!Sam's car nagged them to wear them, which was great.) But it still always bothered me.


	4. Red

Castiel had often used a motel while he was living as a human, but he had never had to share space with a female. Except for Hannah. Hannah had been...complicated. She still was. He admired her greatly, would have fought by her side in honorable battle for the rest of eternity, under other circumstances. But now...

And Hannah had reminded him so much of Anna. Not after she had fallen and returned to Heaven, but Anna, the warrior, his captain. Another angel Castiel would have followed into battle all his life. He had assumed he would fight the battles of the end times as Anna’s most loyal soldier. And then she had become just Anna. And then she had become nothing. Like so many others.

"You're quiet."

"Am I generally loud?" he asked.

Claire stared at him. "Um. No. I just meant..."

He sighed down at his coffee. "I apologize. I was thinking of someone from long ago."

Claire poked at her pie crust. Castiel wondered absently if it was something Dean would enjoy. "Daphne?"

A bit of guilt caught up with him. "No," he admitted. "To an angel, the phrase long ago has a far more vast meaning. I was thinking of someone I served with in Michael's Legion, for many eons. Someone I lost recently." He smiled wearily. "And by recently..."

"You mean many years ago."

"Yes."

She nodded. "Was he-she?-someone you loved?"

He took a breath and shrugged. "Perhaps. She was someone whose death affected me quite profoundly. Someone whose life was precious to me."

"How is that not love?" Claire asked as she pushed the broken, brown pieces about on her plate.

Castiel watched her. "Maybe it was. But in the end, we were on opposite sides, and I contributed to her demise at Michael's hand. I suppose we had not been on the same side for many years before that. I sometimes wonder what Anna would think of what I am now, and all the things I have been. She and Dean Winchester were the first glimpses I had of rebellion. And if it weren't for her...I've been a great many things since then, and not all were good. Many, perhaps most, were not good. I suspect there isn't an angel who would be able to understand better than Anna. Maybe Gadreel. I don't know. But I killed him too."

"The one that possessed Sam? Dean said he blew himself up or something."

He took a sip of his coffee. "Yes. So that I had a chance to set right what I had caused to go so very wrong."

Claire licked her lips. "Dean said you were a hero. That you and my father saved the world."

Something like a bitter laugh bubbled up his throat, and he shoved it back down. "Did he? Your father was a hero, Claire. He gave himself for that which he loved, first Heaven, then you. And through him, I was able to help when the world needed saving. If it weren't for me, Claire, the world wouldn't need saving nearly so often. But your father. He was a brave, selfless man. He gave his life, his everything, so that others, including you, could live free. He, along with Dean and Sam and their friends, prevented Lucifer's army from crawling over the earth and torching it. And I hope I helped more than I messed up."

The young woman was silent, but her eyes were on him.

"As for Daphne Allen...I have been so many creatures in such a short blur of years, Claire. It is almost like she was the friend of someone very much like me, and not me at all. Someone far more like your father."

"I don't think she'll see it that way, Castiel."

He nodded. "Perhaps not. For what it is worth, which is little, I never intended to hurt anyone. Except demons. And some monsters. I never intended to hurt humans, especially innocents like Daphne, Amelia and you."

"I know."

His blue gaze flicked up to meet hers. Hope shone from them. "You do? You...know?"

"Sure. You're not the only one who ever did things that hurt people while trying to do the right thing. You wouldn't be the only one who accidentally hurt people while trying to do the wrong thing. I nearly got Dean and that nasty couple all killed because I wanted to do the wrong thing. And Sam and Dean...Anyway, I know you didn't mean to hurt me, or my mom, or Daphne Allen. But you do owe it to her to go do what you did with me. Say you're sorry. See if she needs anything. It might have felt like a different person, but it wasn't. It was you, Castiel. And you've gotta own up."

"Yes," he said with a smile. "You're right. And...I'm proud of you for that. Your father...he would be proud of you too."

Her lips twitched. She wiped at her painted mouth, then cleared her throat. "What...how well did you know my father?"

"I know everything he knew about himself. Which is not the same thing as knowing everything about him, but it is quite a lot."

She snorted at this. "If you had said that a year ago, I wouldn't have known what the difference was." She gave him a small sigh. "Well? What was his favorite song? His favorite food? What did he like about being married to my mom? What did he worry about?"

The questions piled up in Castiel's mind, as he tried to access information he had not needed for quite some time. In fact, he had never really needed to know much about Jimmy, and just that thought made him feel guilty in a way he would never have before he had been fully human.

Claire was watching him expectantly.

"His...favorite...He enjoyed a myriad..." He chewed on his lip for a moment; and when had he picked up that habit? "Jimmy had a preference for rock and roll, but especially for that with a religious overtone."

Claire smirked as the waitress approached to take her plate and hand her the bill. She produced one of her cards and gave it to the woman without a word. "So my dad was into Christian rock. That's lame. Okay. What else?"

Despite her words, Castiel could see that the young woman was treasuring these bits of insight. "He liked cheeseburgers. At one point, the sense memory of that preference, even after your father had been reaped to Heaven, haunted me."

"You...craved cheeseburgers?"

His blue eyes rolled. "Craving does not speak to the intensity of the situation."

She laughed.

Hearing this helped him relax a bit. "Also pasta with meat sauce."

"I love spaghetti," Claire said happily. "My dad did too?"

"Certainly. And your mother made it for him when he was stressed. She even made it for him once when they were in the middle of an argument, which lasted days, because she wanted him to know she still cared even though she was angry with him."

Claire's eyes shone brightly. They were hungry for this link to her family, Castiel realized.

"Claire, we should go back to the hotel. You are tired. But I will tell you more on the way, and when we get there."

Minutes later, they were walking back to the hotel, and Claire was laughing. Castiel thought perhaps he would do anything to make her laugh. Especially after she had spent so many years unhappy because of him.

"So the tie?" she giggled.

"Jimmy always hated it. He wore it dutifully, day in and day out. But he hated it. At first, I never tightened it because I didn't think to. Then, once others began fixing it for me, Dean, Daphne, you...it brought back memories of Amelia doing so for Jimmy. They were good memories. Not mine, perhaps, but warm nonetheless. And I didn't tighten the tie myself because I remembered how much Jimmy had hated it."

"I guess I just figured you were this mess that didn't know how to tie a tie."

He looked down at her with a small frown. "Claire, I'm older than the first humans. I watched you before you were evolved enough to sleep below the trees instead of in them. I have wielded every melee weapon and I once wielded the power of every soul in Purgatory. I have observed every technological and militaristic advancement of your world. I know how a neckpiece is meant to be tied."

The laugh was bright now. "Yeah? You still don't know to turn right on red."

Castiel let his eyebrow peak. "You had expressed your preference for discretion in regards to local law enforcement. The laws, so far as I am aware, require a full stop at every red light, and I did that."

"But rights are different! If it doesn't say you can't, you can turn right on a red!"

He huffed at the idea. "Claire, simply because you have not been told explicitly not to break the law, that does not give you permission to do so. Without laws, and people willing to follow and enforce them, societies dissolve into chaos."

Claire cut intelligent eyes at him as they walked. "So if Michael and the other big angel asses make a rule, you follow it even if there should be exceptions, huh?"

He glanced at her. "I believe you are trying to catch me in contradiction."

"I already have. It's okay to turn right on red if they don't have a sign saying not to. Just like God didn't seem to mind you bending rules when it made sense, Cas, even if He didn't tell you to. He didn't tell you not to. And as I understand God, He could have smote your ass if He'd wanted to. It's totally okay with local law enforcement if we turn right on red if we've stopped and checked that cars aren't coming at us. It's okay with God for you to give the bird to His firstborns if they're turning into power-hungry douches."

"I have never gifted fowl to any of my siblings. I turned Raphael's vessel into a pillar of salt, which I imagine was quite unpleasant, and I then ripped the grace from every molecule in his next vessel's form to shatter it into oblivion. But giving a bird does not seem at all practical. Perhaps if it were a special type of bird?"

Claire was laughing again, and this time it reminded him of the human brothers who exasperated him so. "Castiel, I've got a lot to teach you on this road trip. Right on red, and giving the bird. And you were offended I didn't think you knew how to tie a tie!"

The angel frowned to himself as the laughter continued. He was unsure what all these things had to do with the archangels or driving, but as long as it made Claire laugh, he supposed it didn't actually matter.


	5. Rest for the Weary

They had gotten just one room, since Castiel did not sleep these days, but she had made him stand outside while she dressed and got into bed, then called aloud to tell him he could return, which he did. He sat on the second bed, and stared out the window until she spoke again. 

"Are you sorry you came?"

He glanced back at her and was surprised to see how small she seemed in the large bed. A wave of fondness flowed through him. She looked less like that capable woman who was on her way to getting her life together, and more like that quiet, sweet girl Jimmy had left behind. 

"I mean," she was saying, "you could still just poof away to Daphne, and then whatever. You don't have to stay."

Castiel smiled. It was an unfamiliar sensation, smiling. But Claire elicited emotions in him he had not felt with any other human before. "I'm content to remain in your company if you'll let me."

She relaxed visibly. "Okay," she responded. 

"Claire, roughly how much sleep do you require?"

She stared at him. "What? I don't know. Seven or eight hours would be good. More is better. But I guess I can set an earlier alarm if you're impatient to get going."

He shook his head. "Not at all. Sleep as much as required for you to feel revived. I'm in no hurry to depart. As you point out, if I need to go somewhere while you're sleeping, I can. You should sleep as long as you need."

Claire huffed a laugh. "Yeah," she sighed. "You're not my father. Up at seven, even on weekends, because we gotta have breakfast as a family, gotta get to church or start on bible study or do a million other things that don't seem to matter now." She took on a strange expression. "Castiel, what do you think of religion?"

It was a delicate topic among humans, Castiel knew. But Claire had asked, so he would answer. "Religions on earth are begun by prophets. Prophets are humans chosen before time to glimpse the Divine. Some are meant to record what they see. Others are meant to interpret. I have known many true prophets personally, and many others distantly. My humble opinion is that the moment they are called upon to encounter the Divine, they cease to be entirely...balanced. Some handle the experience better than others. The two most recent prophets, Chuck and Kevin, are good examples. Chuck was meant to write. The prophet in him complied with this command compulsively. It turned the man into a...Respectfully, Chuck was a mess."

He was silent for a moment, considering. 

"You know, at the time, I had more pressing things to consider, but I've wondered many times since. Angels can sense, somewhat, when they are in the presence of a vessel, if that vessel is a powerful one. Chuck Shirley was an impressively powerful vessel, strong enough even for an archangel. Stronger even than Sam or Dean, perhaps, stronger than Raphael's or Gabriel's vessels. Why a prophet would need the additional quality of being a vessel suited to an archangel, I can't fathom. I have never known a prophet like that before, nor have I ever known a stronger vessel. All very ironic, considering that the man himself was...in a state of constant disarray."

He sighed, and returned to his original thoughts. "Kevin Tran was a prophet meant to interpret the word of God. He was one of The Scribe's prophets, which I would ask that you not allow to cloud your impression of Kevin himself. At first, he was at least as traumatized by the experience as Chuck. But in an admirably short time, he was able to pull himself together to complete his mission. According to Sam, he nearly killed himself to do it. But he did. And in the end, he died at the hands of The Scribe's henchman. There were no more archangels to protect him, after all."

The room was quiet, and his voice was low, his tone reflective. Perhaps that was what road trips were good for, he considered. Castiel was used to going from one mission to the next, complete the next task, then move on. Even as a human, survival had been foremost in his thoughts. This long, punctuated trip with Claire was allowing him the chance for reflection, which honestly, he tried to avoid. 

But perhaps it had its benefits. After all, reflection after Hannah gave up her vessel was what led him to seek out Claire in the first place. 

"Every prophet is still a man or a woman, in the end. Religions are therefore based on humans, not God. Did that answer your question?" 

Castiel looked back at his companion to find that she was in heavy sleep. He sighed and stood from his bed to pull her covers further up on her bare shoulders. He smiled at her fondly. 

"I'll just wait here then," he whispered.


	6. Bonding

"I've got one," Claire said as she popped another gummy bear into her mouth. "Best time of day."

Castiel frowned at the road ahead. "I...don't..."

She sighed. "Cas, by best, remember, it just means your favorite. Your preference."

He was pleased to hear her calling him Cas. But these questions were becoming increasingly difficult. And as always, he was forced to qualify his response in two parts. "As an angel, there is something truly glorious about the dawn. It's truly a work of amazing beauty, even if I must give much of the credit to Raphael's muses and artists, and Raphael himself. As a human...I admit to finding mornings quite difficult, particularly when I have not had the benefit of a bed the night prior to it."

Claire was watching him. "You were homeless too."

"Often. Cots were quite appreciated when they could be found. Beds were things of luxury."

She nodded. "Yeah. Even as long as I was at Jody's, I didn't go a night without being grateful for that. And for...you know. Being safe." From his periphery, Castiel saw her brighten. "Jody kicks so much ass. So much. I mean, she's old, but she's fierce."

"Sam speaks highly of her."

"No, she's seriously badass. I tailed her once when she met up with this sheriff buddy of hers to check into a vampire thing."

"Claire! You could get yourself killed-"

"Oh, relax. Alex came with me and told me how to keep them from smelling me, and whatever. So anyway, Jody and her friend, they were laughing one second, cutting heads the next, then back to joking. It was amazing. Then we were all back home like nothing happened. I couldn't say anything, because Jody would have flipped if she knew me and Al were there. And she didn't say anything about it because she thought we didn't know where she'd been, that she was saving people from bloodsuckers on her day off. But wow. Bad. Ass."

Castiel didn't know what to think of this. But a thought came to mind, something Sam had said when they had all decided Jody's would be a good place for Claire to stay. "Then she is...a strong, positive female role model for you?"

"Hell yes!"

He nodded. "Good."

"Jody is awesome. I can talk to her about anything, from my dad getting eaten by Heaven to sex to whether I should go to college..."

Castiel turned to stare at her, then had to force himself to focus on his driving. He did not know which of these to address first. "Your father-"

"You know what I mean, Castiel," she groaned. 

Best to let that one go then. "Do you have an acceptable amount of quality sexual encounters?"

She gaped at him. "You did not just say that!"

"I believe you initiated this conversation."

"Acceptable amount? What the hell is that?"

He considered carefully. "I'm told it depends upon the individual. For me-"

Claire gave a high pitched shriek that made him cringe. 

"Are you all right?" he demanded in alarm. 

"We are so not talking about this! You are never going to talk about this. You are never going to have sex. You never have had sex! Even if you have, you haven't! Understand? God, don't even...I just don't..."

"I've upset you."

"Jesus, Cas!"

He frowned at the road. He would need to text this conversation to Sam later to determine where it had gone wrong. 

"Female role model," Claire reminded him. "Female!"

"Oh. You see me as male, and therefore-"

"See you as-Cas! You're still wearing my dad!"

He nodded. "Male, then."

She threw her hands up and began biting the feet off of the gummy bears in earnest. 

Castiel sighed, and chose to take the risk of asking another question. "College?"

"I don't know," she said irritably. "Maybe. Gotta get a few credits I missed."

He glanced at her, and hoped he was speaking in turn. "As I understand it," he ventured, "Dean did not complete his academic cycle as a child."

Claire looked up. "Dean dropped out of high school?"

"I have heard him say so more than once. I didn't know how important it was until I was attempting to secure employment for myself. Everyone asked when I had completed high school. When I told them I had not, it seemed to end the conversation abruptly, and not in a favorable way. I learned to lie, as Dean had told me to do when I wanted something badly, and I finally found work. But it was not easy."

"Yeah. Jody said the same thing. Even if I don't go on to college, I gotta finish those credits. But...I think I might look at some places. Maybe. Don't know what I'd study. Maybe history or something. And one of the local schools has a fencing team. I thought that might be fun. Alex does archery now, and I did some, but I'd really like to study swords and learn to use them. So that might be worth the homework."

"Perhaps," Castiel agreed. He let the matter drop unless Claire wanted to bring it up again. Instead, he receded into his own memory. 

He had once tortured a university professor. 

Granted, she had been a creature of Purgatory, and it was the only way to find the way into the place, to work the spell and consume the souls of the creatures in order to defeat Raphael and keep him from restarting the Apocalypse. 

But to engage in such a despicable deed as allowing his grace to burn into another being without putting that being to rest was...Well, it had not been below him at the time. He had let Crowley and his thugs get their hands dirty, then when the female did not appear to be willing to talk, he had stepped in, and done the work himself. It had all seemed so justified at the time. But that particular creature of Purgatory was not evil, not really. And was torture ever truly justified? Was being a hero worth it if you must become the villain to achieve the goal?

He shook his head and spoke again. "Evening," he said quietly. "Just as the earth becomes quiet and dusky. When things are not so sharp and bright and unforgiving. That is my favorite time of day."

Claire nodded thoughtfully. "Mine too."


	7. Detecting a Note of Forgiveness

Castiel was staring at the door. Claire cleared her throat. "This is like the ice palace scene in _Frozen_. Do you even know how to knock?"

The angel turned to give her his narrowed gaze. "Of course I do."

"But you're not," she pointed out.

He looked back at it. "No. I'm not."

"Cas, you gotta do this."

"I'm not hesitating to contact Daphne," he said firmly. "I'm hesitating to interrupt her life."

"Uh huh." Claire reached up and banged on the door, then rang the bell for good measure. "There. Problem solved."

She could swear Castiel was imagining smiting her. She gave him a smirk in return for his blue glare.

Then the door opened, and Claire was suddenly far less sure of herself. Should they have called ahead? What if Daphne were completely livid? What if she didn't even live there anymore? The name on the mailbox was Allen, but what if-

"Emmanuel!" A soft smile from a lovely face shone out at them from the doorway. Daphne rushed out to wrap her arms around Castiel tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay! I've missed you!"

Castiel was frowning severely at Claire. Apparently neither of them had prepared for the possibility that Daphne was just fine.

"Emmanuel, come in! Who is your friend?"

Castiel cleared his throat and disentangled himself from his former wife. "Daphne, I'm...I'm here to..."

"Come on! You shouldn't stand on the porch like you don't belong here! I just finished dinner, but...Well, I know you barely eat, but your friend?"

Daphne led the bewildered angel and teen into the house with a bright laugh.

"Emmanuel, I'd like you to meet my friend Noah. Please."

Suddenly, Claire heard a completely different tone in Daphne's voice. A glance at Castiel told her he had heard it too.

They rounded a corner into a kitchen behind Daphne to find a man sitting at the breakfast table, drinking a glass of wine. Claire opened her mouth to greet him, but was cut off by Castiel's arm shooting out in alarm, blocking her way. He shoved her hard behind him, and she saw his blade emerge from his sleeve to drop into his hand. She reached for her own knife, but desperately wished she had her sword.

"Demon," Castiel spat.

The man stood carefully, hands raised. "Now, now, halo. I'm not here to hurt anybody. Except this guy," he admitted, pointing to his own chest. "But Noah's been gone a while, and he had been stealing from his grandmother, so...What're ya gonna do, am I right?"

"Why are you here?" Claire snapped. She understood that Castiel could see the true face of the demon, but it was so strange to think that this Mr. Rogers guy was actually black smoke from Hell.

"I'm just keeping an eye on your girl here. Been hanging out with her since you left, in fact. We're good friends."

Castiel's face was twisted in fury. "You're watching her for what purpose? To find me? Crowley has seen me a dozen times since-"

"You assume I work for a king who would fraternize with angels." Claire watched him blink his eyes, and a cry strangled in her throat as she saw them turn a gray-blue. "Not one of Crowley's, am I then?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed into slits. "Claire, take Daphne away, and protect her as you can. This is the servant of a very, very old demon, one who walked the earth, albeit temporarily, before Lucifer's return."

Claire held tight to her knife, but reached to grab Daphne's hand. The two of them hurried behind Castiel and watched from behind cover. Claire ensured that Daphne was secure where she was, then grabbed her phone and began tapping with one hand as fast as she could.

"Your master can only be raised every six hundred-"

"Every six hundred years, hm?" the demon spat at Castiel. "Maybe you don't understand how time works in Hell. And he wasn't locked away with caution this time. He experienced Hell like the rest of us do when your pet exorcised him so carelessly. For six years. You see, every part of Hell has a different sort of time flow. I'd say six years where he is? That's awfully close to a hundred to one ratio. Oh, and the Celtic harvest thing? There are plenty of loopholes around things like that now that the Apocalypse has puttered out and Lilith bit it."

Claire willed herself not to tremble. _Dean, demon, gray-blue eyes, not Crowley's & 600 year raised._

Almost immediately there was a reply. _This is Sam. 600 years? Samhain is the only one I know like that. But he's only been gone six._

_Right. Here._

_Where?_

_Daphne's home._

_Cas with you?_

_Yes._

_Stay safe._

There came no more reply. Claire handed the phone to Daphne. "If this guy texts again, you answer the best you can," she hissed.

Daphne nodded quickly. She grabbed the phone like a lifeline, tears splashing over her cheeks in silence.

Claire stood carefully and moved like a cat to Castiel's position in the kitchen doorway, where she was still blocked by his coat from the demon.

The two of them were still posturing.

"So you belong to Samhain. And he wanted you to watch this woman why?"

"He said she smelled like halo. And..." The demon breathed deeply through his nose, and smiled with amused disgust. "She sure does."

"You aren't afraid."

Claire bit into her lip. What kind of thing, other than another angel, wasn't afraid of Castiel? The way Sam and Dean told it, even most other angels were afraid of him.

"I'm fulfilling my destiny," the demon in Noah laughed. "I may not see the coming of my master, but I will serve him with my death. He sees with my eyes, and he sees the angel whose pets sent him to Hell again. He knows where you are, Castiel. He knows who you are. He can't see you himself because of that vessel you wear, like a mask. Like a coward. But I see you. And now you can run or fly or whatever cowards do, because he's got your scent. And the scent of that girl with you." The voice dissolved into a taunting, gleeful melody. "And he's coming!"

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, and Claire felt her heart pounding in her chest. "Cas?" she called shrilly.

"Emmanuel, I'm so sorry!" Daphne cried. "Emmanuel...Castiel, they tried! They tried for years to make me pray for you, did horrible things to make me call to you, but I wouldn't! But then you were there, at the door, and I was just so relieved...I'm so sorry! I should have screamed at you to run!" She sobbed wildly, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry. And now he's coming!"

Claire hurried to grab her as Castiel lunged at the demon. She made her mind focus on the task the angel had given her. Protect Daphne. "Come on. Come on!" She took hold of the woman's wrist and yanked her, ran with her until they reached her vehicle outside. The tremors nearly knocked them to the ground several times, but Claire pushed forward. "Get in!" she shouted. "Get in, lock the doors, and answer the damn phone if it rings!"

She was glad to see Daphne nodding, even as she was becoming more hysterical, and doing as she was told. She tried not to listen to the horrible sounds coming from inside the house. As a final shriek signaled the end of the Noah-Demon, she saw three neighbors coming out of their homes to look around in alarm.

"No! Get back inside! Get in and lock the doors! Whatever happens, don't even freaking peek out!" She pulled her sword from the bag in the back of her vehicle, and stared at it for a beat.

She wanted to pray. But to whom?

Claire swallowed and steadied her feet, just as the tremors died down. She looked in every direction wildly, holding her sword in both hands. "Come on," she murmured into the silence. "Come on. This thing killed a Grigori. Don't tell me it won't kill a Sam whatever. Sam Hey."

"Samhain," a deep voice corrected her.

She whirled around to find a tall, slim man with those awful gray-blue eyes and dead stare walking through the street toward her. "Get back! Don't you come close to me!" She hated how shrill her voice was, but her grip on the sword was strong.

A force blasted from the house, making splinters of the door. Castiel was beside her, a step in front of her, and Claire could breathe again, jagged, stuttered breaths.

"Not another step, demon!"

The man had no hair, and held his terrifying eyes far too wide for Claire's taste. "Angel," he said in a hiss. "Where are your pets?"

"Cas? You're killing this guy, right?"

Castiel didn't look at her. "Claire, the last time this particular demon strolled through a town, our original orders were to rain sulfur down on the entire town, to wipe it off the map to keep it from rising, or to destroy it. And I'm afraid raining sulfur is not exactly in my portfolio. That takes a specialist."

"How nice, then, that you've got me."

Each of the three beings turned their stare toward the fourth, a compact, dark man in a suit, with a beard and unruly hair, and the smarmiest smirk Claire had ever seen.

Samhain and Castiel both curled their lips in revulsion and loathing. "Crowley," they growled in unison.

Claire's eyes went wide. "Crowley? King of Hell?"

The demon smiled at her. "Now there's a lass who knows it's polite to use the title of one's better."

She glowered in response. "Whatever. I hear you're a douche."

Samhain snarled. He took a step toward them all. Simultaneously, each of the three others raised their blades. He began to laugh and raised his own empty hand.

"No! Over here!"

Claire glanced to find Daphne screaming and flailing at the demon from outside the vehicle. "Daphne!" she cried.

But the other two were moving, and Claire found herself moving too. Samhain had spared a moment to turn blindly toward the scream, and Castiel and Crowley moved in on him like lightening, like partners. Claire dove toward Daphne, putting herself between the Samhain demon and the unarmed woman, while the angel and king attacked behind her.

"Stay down!" she ordered, and Daphne dropped to the pavement. Claire stood over her, sword raised in a protective stance.

The scene before them was chaos, devastation. She saw two different streams of white light, as well as a swirl of terrible red smoke. The ground shuddered fearfully. It seemed to go on for far too long, but only seconds passed before the light and smoke show exploded into an electrical flashing. When everything cleared, Claire saw Castiel on one knee with his fist still gripping his blade, shoved as it was into Samhain's chest, and Crowley was stepping on the bald head to pull his own angel blade from the demon's face.

"It's dead!" she cried out in surprise.

Castiel continued to frown down at the thing as he stood, but Crowley turned to roll his eyes at her. "Well, of course he's dead, you twit. I'm Crowley! And this is Heaven's least killable angel-and don't think I haven't tried!"

Castiel's blue eyes flicked up to glare at Crowley. He wiped his blade on the king's sleeve, then flipped it in his fingers irritably. "Are you all right, Claire? Daphne?"

Claire glanced down, and nodded. "She's okay. I'm okay."

Crowley examined the blood on his suit jacket with exaggerated exasperation. "See if I come save you from the Thanksgiving demon," he snorted.

Castiel looked back at him. "It was under control."

"It clearly wasn't," Crowley corrected. "Or Sam Winchester would not have called. Do you think the Moose calls me just to chat? Dean, yes, but not Sam. Hard to believe they're brothers at all."

"Sam called for you?"

"Not for, there's no for. I have a cellphone, you know. And when I heard you had located the slippery little devil Abbadon allowed to wander the halls freely without a pass...Well, I was happy to help. Castiel, your friends are my friends, your enemies are my enemies! We're practically sisters, you and I."

Claire's mouth fell open.

"He was planning to unseat you and claim the throne."

Crowley shrugged and waved that away. "Details don't matter, do they? The point is, we're becoming quite the team."

"Go before I smite you."

Crowley shook his head, and addressed Claire. "That's how he says thank you." His fingers snapped and the man was gone from sight, as was the body of the demon.

Castiel sighed and reached a hand down to help Daphne up. "You're all right?" he asked again in a soft voice Claire had rarely heard him use.

The woman nodded.

Claire watched as Castiel lifted her father's fingers to Daphne's cheek, and saw the blue eyes flash minutely.

Daphne took a deep breath, and let it out in the form of relief. "Oh, Emmanuel."

"I'm so sorry you got caught up in this. And that I didn't come until now."

She smiled weakly up at him. "You came in the end, didn't you?"

"It was far too late to keep you from being hurt."

Daphne took his hand. "Emmanuel...Castiel. Castiel, they tried to make me pray to you, so that you would come and they could kill you."

Claire shook her head. "I don't understand. Couldn't they have just possessed her? Learned what she knew?"

Castiel gave a tiny smile, though it faded quickly. "A demon cannot pray from inside a human vessel. But more than that, a human who is unafraid is closed to possession. My Daphne was unafraid."

She shook her head. "I just had faith," she corrected. "God lead me to you all that time ago. I knew He had a plan bigger than me. I knew I was meant to support a very special man. This just strengthened that faith. If demons wanted you, if they called you an angel, you must be God's servant, and if He thought I could somehow help, I wasn't going to fail Him. Or you."

Claire saw the pride and adoration swelling Castiel's chest and brightening his eyes. For just an instant, she felt a spark of jealousy light under her skin, but she slammed it down. Daphne had dealt with years of torment to protect Castiel. What had Claire ever done but cause him pain and worry?

When Castiel spoke again, his voice was emotional. "Isn't it amazing what a fragile human can do, what feats of strength and will can be accomplished when there is no powerful being, no hero to save you? You precious things, you become the heroes yourselves. We fail to protect you time and again, and turn to find you protecting one another, protecting us. Is it any wonder demons and angels alike turn to humans in all times of severity? You are the ones with all the true strength."

Daphne smiled. The tears kept rolling down her cheeks, but she seemed entirely at peace. Claire reached out to grip her hand.

Castiel shook his head at them. "Daphne, this is my friend Claire. She is one of the bravest humans I have ever known. One of the strongest. You'll like her."

Claire stared at him in surprise. "Oh! No, I'm just..."

The angel blinked at her. "Just?"

She bit her lip.

"Daphne, she is one of my favorite humans. She puts up with me, just as you did, and she means a great deal to me."

Daphne squeezed Claire's hand. "High praise from an angel," she murmured. "Emman-Castiel, can I ask...?"

"You may ask, and you may continue to call me Emmanuel. I have gone by many, many names in my lifetime. Emmanuel...that is one of my good ones. Castiel tries, always, but Emmanuel was a good man."

She sighed. "You pretended with me," she whispered. "Why? I would have supported you no matter what. Were you testing me?"

Claire could see Castiel glancing at her. She nodded her encouragement.

"Daphne, I never pretended with you. I had lost my way. Lost myself. I was as you found me. But when I left with Dean, with the man who saved you from the demons who sought me...I remembered what I am. What I had done, and what I had to do. You cared for a broken angel, and I will always cherish you for that. I never meant to cause you grief, and I certainly never meant for you to come to harm on my behalf."

"I know." She gave a soft laugh. "You healed me. Just now. You could do that before, as Emmanuel. Why didn't we...?"

"I didn't remember until I needed to remember, until my friends needed me to set some things right. And that is what I have been trying to do recently." He glanced again at Claire.

Her adrenaline was falling, and the sword was feeling very heavy. Without warning, she felt tears on her cheeks.

"I have always been on the side of humanity, in my heart. I...have not always done the right things. But my Father knows...I hope my Father knows I've tried. Along the way, though, there have been casualties of every battle I have fought, and I can never truly set it right. But I am sorry. To you. To Claire. I wish I could heal it all. I can't."

Claire watched him. In time, she put away the sword, and they moved their conversation to the house. She responded to a frantic text from Sam. She felt the night overtake them slowly. She helped Daphne set her house to rights, as Castiel discarded the Noah-demon. And all the while, she watched the angel.

He did do his best, she realized. She saw the way he looked at Daphne with such respect and gratitude, and the way she adored him, even after all the suffering she had undergone because of him.

Claire realized something else too. At last, they each received a tight hug from Daphne, and promises that she would pray for them both, and they walked slowly back to the vehicle that had brought them across the country.

"I never really forgave you. For my dad. For my parents. My childhood."

Anguish flashed across Castiel's face, but he nodded. "I understand."

"I do, though."

The eyes lifted to meet hers in a shy sort of way, a cautious, wary way, as if she might change her mind. The look was hopeful. "Claire? Thank you for forcing me to confront Daphne. And thank you so much for coming with me. I understand now why the driving element of the trip was important, and I appreciated the time with you. If you truly do forgive me...perhaps there is hope for broken angels after all."

Claire grinned at him. "Oh, I've got plenty more to teach you on the way home. Come on!" With a renewed burst of youthful energy, Claire jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "We got miles to go before we sleep!"

"I...don't sleep, Claire."

She rolled her pretty eyes, but smiled fondly at her angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this!!
> 
> Comments make me so happy!


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